CHAPTER EIGHT: A CHRISTMAS NIGHTMARE
Did you know all mothers come from heaven?
Did you know all fathers come from hell?
Can we ever hope to seek asylum
From the bounds of fate and family?
-Tears for Fears-
As usual, the Malfoy Christmas was a manifestation of their enormous wealth.
Not a detail was missing, Draco thought, as he was pulled into the arms of his mother in the hallway. Narcissa's pearl blue eyes glimmered like newly fallen snow and she smiled proudly at him.
"How you've grown." She whispered, brushing some melting snowflakes out of his hair.
Draco beamed back at his mother, genuinely happy to see her. The tension between Draco and his father on the way home had been exhausting, even though both of them acted as if nothing had happened at their last meeting.
"We have invited the Parkinsons, Crabbes, Goyles and Bellatrix along with some other friends of the family. You'll have a splendid Christmas."
Narcissa kissed him on the cheek before sending him off to change clothes and as he politely kissed her back, Draco couldn't help thinking about Neville, sitting alone in the Gryffindor tower with only patronizing Potter there to hold him company. He frowned as he climbed the stairs to his room, a mad thought flying into him.
What if Potter suspected something and tried to talk Neville out of it?
Or what if Neville wouldn't wait and Potter suddenly opened his eyes to Neville, coaxing him into doing unspeakable things in their deserted dormitory?
Noway! He wasn't going to lose Neville to Potter!
Draco ran the rest of the way to his room, locking the door behind him. An owl was summoned very quickly, along with some parchment, ink and quills. He had to write something to remind Neville, just to let him know whom he belonged to, in case he got distracted. The quill was flying through the parchment, but none of the words seemed to manifest the proper way. Soon Draco was sitting in the candlelight with a frustrated scowl, surrounded by crumbled parchments.
Finally, he heard a knock on his door and he had to settle for the last version and send it off in a hurry, signed with a 'D'.
His father was waiting outside his room, flashing him a mysterious smile as he walked Draco down to the great hall of the mansion.
"There's someone I'd like you to meet" he said, with a low and solemn voice. "It is certainly about time, now that your future is taking shape."
"Yes, father." Draco said with a nod, but an omnious knot in his stomach was taking shape.
The time to remind Draco of his future couldn't have been more badly picked.
In the Gryffindor dormitories, Neville and Harry sat on their beds with a sea of sweets and fruit before them. Their few Christmas gifts laid scattered there as well and they paid great attention to them while chatting about everything and nothing. The school, along with some warm- hearted Gryffindors, had been kind enough to supply Neville with some presents. Harry brushed through a new book about Quidditch techniques, as Neville watched with amusement how his toad Trevor tried to make contact with a chocolate frog.
Meanwhile, Harry ranted on about his problems with Cho, the Ravenclaw seeker he dated. He had been doing that for a while and Neville felt safe and calm hearing him, knowing that he wasn't the only one suffering from anguish in his love life. It had been hard enough separating from Draco, after the miracle of hearing his Slytherin obsession speaking soothing words and display tenderness towards him. If Draco had meant to touch his weak spot, he had certainly succeeded. Neville felt hopelessly caught in the last hot memory before they departed, the promise of forbidden pleasure as Draco had left him with a mischievous smirk and those words that had made Neville's cheeks turn dark red.
Enjoy the few days you have left as a virgin, Neville. Things are going to change once I get back. Trust me.
And those sly, blue eyes, reminding him of frost, secrets and irresistable advances...
"Who was that girl anyway, Nevvy?"
Neville jumped and started to blush, as Harry's frank question took him by complete surprise. "Eh...who?" he tried, looking down at Trevor.
Harry grinned at him, seemingly only encouraged by Neville's reaction.
"Come on, we both know! The girl who gave you the hickey from hell."
"Harry, can you keep a secret?"
"Sure."
Neville looked at Harry's cheerful smile, deadly serious.
"I mean it Harry, this is really, really important."
Harry raised his hand as if taking an oath, amused by Neville's desperation.
"I swear on Dumbledore's beard, Neville. Your secret dies with me."
"It's a boy."
Harry's self-assured face fell off him completely and Neville felt a wave of shame well up. His nervous studdering returned for the first time since the fourth year.
"D- do you think it's disgusting?" He looked carefully at Harry, ready to lock eyes with Trevor instead if worse came to worst.
But Harry seemed to collect himself quite quickly, taking a deep breath with his hand held to his heart, as if turning his overreaction into a little joke.
"Wow...okay, I didn't see that one coming!"
Neville tried to smile apologetically, but failed. Harry tried to compensate at once.
"Hey. It's fine with me, honestly. You just threw the biggest news of the year into my face, that's all."
Leaning forward with rekindled interest, Harry continued to press.
"But who is it? You have to tell me, now that you've gone this far!"
Neville shook his head, fixing his eyes on Trevor.
"I really can't do that, Harry."
Before Harry could protest, a black owl tapped at the window with its beak, startling them both. Harry was closest to the window and opened it, letting the freezing bird take shelter from the whirling snow outside. To Harry's surprise, the owl made a blitz attack, biting his hand, before lifting and landing at Neville's bed. Harry was cursing loudly, as Neville took the small scroll bearing his name with shaking fingers. Harry sucked at his wound, while eyening the owl suspiciously. Neville on the other hand, unfolded his letter and read it several times, feeling his heart starting to beat faster.
Neville,
I really hope that you are behaving yourself in my absence. There's a very special Christmas gift designed for you if you do. If Dumbledore cares about his life, he better give you a good enough vacation to begin with. It wouldn't hurt to take some attention from Potter and hand it over to you. Speaking of Potter, I assume you have to spend the Christmas together. Just bear in mind that Potter can be very persuasive and don't let him too close. He has been up to a lot of bad things lately and we wouldn't want you caught up in his web of intrigues. Should he try, my next letters would have to be written on his severed skin. Have a nice Christmas.
D
Neville couldn't decide what to make out of the letter. It started out nice enough (to be Draco) but the last part about Potter seemed a little overreactive. He decided to write a reassuring letter in return, trying with all his might to keep a prying Potter at bay.
Back in the Malfoy castle, the Christmas spirit seemed to live high in everyone except for Draco, whose Christmas spirit had turned into a nightmarish demon.
All the guests had arrived two days ago and a lot of congratulations and welcomes had been raining on him. He had recieved them with perfect manners, seeing his father's proud gaze in the corner of his eye. But inside, he was still cold from the dreadful meeting with the being his parents had commited their lives to. The burning red eyes of the Dark Lord would not leave him alone even in his dreams. And Snape's piercing stare as Draco had recieved acceptance, unreadable and cold.
But none of them were here now. Only the cheerful guests, all of them death eaters save for their youngsters.
As usual, the kitchen elves had outdone themselves when making the traditional dinner for Christmas day. The conversation around the great table was light and cheerful, the competing for prestige unusually relaxed.
Draco kept at his best manners and smiled at his father everytime he gave him that proud glance. The smile was genuine, since Draco imagined his fork stuck in Lucius eye to uphold it. And nobody present could view Malfoy junior as anything but irresistably charming and clever. Soon enough, some amused questions were aimed at the younger dinner guests, sending burning bitterness through Draco.
"So how's the love life?" death eater Bellatrix asked him, clearly swayed by his act.
"Do you have a girlfriend yet?"
The inquiry met more interest, since both his parents and most of the present turned their curious eyes to him. Draco thought his soul could turn no darker.
No, but there's this boy named Neville, you know, the Longbottoms? Ha ha, yes. And his virginity is still intact, but I'll fuck him senseless soon enough. You might have ruined the odds for me and for that, you will all have to pay with your blood. Could you pass me the bread?
But he gave them a secretive smile and fed them some bits.
"There's one I've marked as mine. It's only a matter of time."
The answer seemed to please everyone around the table and Mrs Parkinson pointed out the similarity between father and son, making Lucius look even more proud. Draco made a mental note to remove her tounge some day, in a very painful way.
But the other Slytherin students around the table got questioned as well and only Pansy had a little blush and threw a secret glance at Draco while trying to come up with a good answer.
As dinner came to a finish, the teenagers were sent off on their own, all except Draco. His schoolmates glared at him with respect or envy before leaving the table. There was obviously some serious discussion to attend to, which suited Draco perfectly.
The Dark Lord had risen and there were plans to be made. The subject blew old memories to life and soon the tales of the Dark Lords former reign was openly shared across the table.
Draco listened with half an ear, but looked very interested. Only when Longbottom's name was mentioned, his attention became very sharp.
"Good thing that the Longbottoms are practically extinct." said Mr Crabbe.
"Oh, but there's this boy!" Bellatrix objected. "Draco, what's his name?"
"Neville." Draco's voice was but a low growl.
"Well, he will not make much of a difference." Lucius concluded. "The old Longbottom hag is dead and the parents are locked into a mental institution. I've heard that they hand the sorry little whelp pieces of toffee paper every now and then."
The words released a wave of laughter and Draco laughed with them, though it was the hardest act he'd ever had to play. His fingers were turning cold and the sinking feeling in his stomach had come to stay. Inside his fury was glowing white, but he could not ruin this opportunity now.
Mrs Parkinson smiled at Draco with the sort of underestimating face an adult did to a child.
"But the Malfoys will prevail, no question about that." she beamed.
Draco gave her his most charming smile back, answering with the most polite voice he could gather.
"I doubt that very much. I'm gay."
The silence was deafening.
Draco's words hit the table like a thunder bolt and only the sound of Mrs Goyle dropping her fork was heard.
Draco looked as if he had only mentioned the time and continued to cut his pumpkin pie into small pieces in his well-trained manner, still smiling. His malice had no end as he felt his father's burning gaze, knowing that he felt every whiplash Draco had felt that autumn day. And just as he had counted on, his mother held Lucius under sharp observation.
Bellatrix looked absolutely dumbstruck and tried to save the situation in a really sheepish way.
"Well." She blurted out with a nervous smile. "I guess someone has to be."
Now all eyes turned to her instead, all except Lucius' and Narcissa's. Then his mother threw everything into an acceptable balance, as only she could, not showing any signs of surprise.
"Draco, that is not a proper subject at a dinner table."
Draco smiled politely at her.
"Quite right, mother." Draco lifted the pumpkin pie in an offering gesture towards Bellatrix. "Some more pie?"
Draco made sure to stay close to his mother the rest of the evening. Everytime Lucius looked at him, it was as if he tried to burn Draco to cinders only by staring. But Narcissa knew all too well where the anger was heading and insisted on sending Draco up to his room when the guests had gone to bed, keeping Lucius in the dining hall.
The black owl was waiting for him on the windowsill as he entered. Quickly, as if catching a snitch, he grabbed the message and unfolded it, letting his eyes fly across the parchment. At least one of his parents would be visiting any second and by then the letter had to be burned.
Draco,
Thank you for the letter. I have been thinking a lot about you. Don't worry about me, or about my holiday. Dumbledore has given us a great Christmas and Harry hasn't tried to pull me into anything. On the contrary, we have been talking a lot about personal stuff and I really feel that I can confide in Harry. It feels so good that we can share our secrets together (I haven't mentioned your name, though). I hope that your Christmas has been great and that you've had lots of presents. I miss you.
N
Draco noted that he had stopped breathing as he read. What was the meaning of this? Confiding in Harry? Sharing secrets? What sort of secrets!?
Then Neville had written that he missed Draco. Was it a chilly hint about Draco not being there for him when he wanted it? That Harry had become the substitute Neville needed and maybe decided to keep?
He read it repeatedly, the thoughts in his head running in wild circles. Frustration started to skip hand in hand with searing jealousy.
Right.
So then Harry had to go. He had it coming anyway.
A short knock on the door sent him jumping to the bed to bury the letter under his matress. It had to be burned later, simple as that.
When his mother entered the room, Draco sat on his bed with the sulkiest face he could manage, his arms crossed and stubborness shining like a black halo around him. He wasn't even pretending.
Narcissa placed herself on the bed as well, with the regal air of a queen. But her eyes were on fire, filled with concern, anger and demands, all at once. And she fixed them on Draco.
"Now, what's the meaning of this?"
Instead of answering, Draco pulled up the sleeve on his left arm, revealing the newly branded, ugly black skull on his pale skin.
"It was too soon." he said and made no effort to restrain his bitterness.
"No, love, it wasn't" Narcissa objected. "You fulfill every expectation and the Dark Lord is in great need of his faithful, now that his return to power is growing near."
When Draco clenched his teeth together even more, she continued.
"It is a great honour to be chosen and your father and I are so very proud of you."
"Nobody asked me."
Narcissa arched a beautiful eyebrow in surprise.
"But Draco, you've always wanted this. Ever since you were a child..."
"But I'm not!" Draco snapped. "And it's true what I said at dinner."
Narcissa eyed him reproachfully, every word dripping venom as she spoke.
"Not that voice with me, young man, or you can have this conversation with your father."
Draco softened at the words. His mother knew all too well how to control an argument and after all, he wasn't really angry with her.
"I'm sorry, mother" he murmured, and Narcissa laid her arm over his shoulders.
"What you said at the table was very unnessecary."
"But true."
"Nonetheless, unnessecary."
Draco's face darkened.
"Father is going to kill me."
Narcissa rolled her eyes.
"No he won't, Draco!"
But Draco shot up from the bed, his cold eyes flashing.
"Yes, he will!" he said, removing the cloth from his back as he spoke, only to pull his shirt on again the next second.
Judging from the stone cold face of Narcissa, the sight of the long scars was going to cost Lucius some serious peace in his home. Draco felt a dark satisfaction knowing this. Even though it wasn't the first time Lucius had laid hand on him and Narcissa had been aware of it, she had never approved of it.
"You will have to face your father about your behaviour in front of our friends." she said, almost in a whisper. "But mark my words, I will be there watching him like a hawk."
"I don't want to say another word to him again, ever!"
Narcissa sighed, regaining her authority.
"You are too much like your father!"
"I'm nothing like him!"
His mother had seen enough of that stubborness in her husband to know when to change direction.
"So you claim to be gay." she said, matter-of-factly. "By choosing the time and place to inform us, you didn't just strike at your father, but at me as well."
The thought hadn't come to Draco until now. He actually felt a sting of guilt over it, but the growing anxiousness was worse.
"Are you ashamed of me, then?" he asked, meeting her eyes with uncaracteristic uncertainity.
She looked stunned for a moment before rising from the bed and grasping his hands in a firm grip.
"Look at me" she said, with a serious scowl. "I know better than to question your convictions. But it's a little more earth-shattering than you imagine."
"I know my own family!"
"Then you know that you need to modify your claim."
"Then I would lie."
"You better do as I say if you want to decrease your father's anger into reasonable proportions."
"As if it would help!" Draco spat. "You saw the way he looked at me!"
"Who's your boyfriend, then?"
Draco felt as if the words had gone stuck in his throat. It was embarrasing enough to touch the subject with his mother, without mentioning the unmentionable.
"I don't have one."
"Don't lie to me."
Draco averted his eyes.
"I can't say. Dad is going to kill him."
Narcissa pulled his hands lightly.
"Then let's go down and hear what your father has to say. Remember, that before acting, he will have to go through me first."
His father was in the great hall, seated in a black armchair by the fireplace. The meeting with Lucius was scary enough with Narcissa present, but Draco felt strengthened by having her support and didn't flinch as Lucius rose from his favorite seat with an intimidating stare.
"You're grounded until the term starts." he hissed. "And meanwhile, we'll find out who you really are!"
"It's true, father." Draco's voice was but a whisper.
"I thought we had this discussion about truth." Lucius eyes promised horrifying penalties for the offense, but Narcissa kept an eye on her husband, standing with arms crossed behind Draco.
"I'm sorry, father."
"You are going to get back to school and find yourself a girlfriend. You will bear the name of Malfoy with dignity or not at all!"
"I can't do that, father. I'm seeing someone."
It was evident that Lucius would have gone to attack, there and then, if Narcissa hadn't been in the room.
"And who might that be?" he said, with a murderous, silky voice.
"It's Harry Potter, father and you can't stop me."
Lucius went white and Draco heard his mother's half-quenched gasp. Narcissa stepped between them in a heartbeat.
"Go up to your room at once, Draco" she said in her frostiest voice. "Your father and I have some very serious matters to discuss."
"Yes, mother."
As Draco made it up the stairs, a vindictive smile played across his face. It was a small comfort to have made the smarter move on his father, even though the game was far from over. But anything soothing his worst case scenario about Neville was welcome and Draco could tell from his mother's gaze that his parents wouldn't leave the great hall for many hours to come.
Did you know all mothers come from heaven?
Did you know all fathers come from hell?
Can we ever hope to seek asylum
From the bounds of fate and family?
-Tears for Fears-
As usual, the Malfoy Christmas was a manifestation of their enormous wealth.
Not a detail was missing, Draco thought, as he was pulled into the arms of his mother in the hallway. Narcissa's pearl blue eyes glimmered like newly fallen snow and she smiled proudly at him.
"How you've grown." She whispered, brushing some melting snowflakes out of his hair.
Draco beamed back at his mother, genuinely happy to see her. The tension between Draco and his father on the way home had been exhausting, even though both of them acted as if nothing had happened at their last meeting.
"We have invited the Parkinsons, Crabbes, Goyles and Bellatrix along with some other friends of the family. You'll have a splendid Christmas."
Narcissa kissed him on the cheek before sending him off to change clothes and as he politely kissed her back, Draco couldn't help thinking about Neville, sitting alone in the Gryffindor tower with only patronizing Potter there to hold him company. He frowned as he climbed the stairs to his room, a mad thought flying into him.
What if Potter suspected something and tried to talk Neville out of it?
Or what if Neville wouldn't wait and Potter suddenly opened his eyes to Neville, coaxing him into doing unspeakable things in their deserted dormitory?
Noway! He wasn't going to lose Neville to Potter!
Draco ran the rest of the way to his room, locking the door behind him. An owl was summoned very quickly, along with some parchment, ink and quills. He had to write something to remind Neville, just to let him know whom he belonged to, in case he got distracted. The quill was flying through the parchment, but none of the words seemed to manifest the proper way. Soon Draco was sitting in the candlelight with a frustrated scowl, surrounded by crumbled parchments.
Finally, he heard a knock on his door and he had to settle for the last version and send it off in a hurry, signed with a 'D'.
His father was waiting outside his room, flashing him a mysterious smile as he walked Draco down to the great hall of the mansion.
"There's someone I'd like you to meet" he said, with a low and solemn voice. "It is certainly about time, now that your future is taking shape."
"Yes, father." Draco said with a nod, but an omnious knot in his stomach was taking shape.
The time to remind Draco of his future couldn't have been more badly picked.
In the Gryffindor dormitories, Neville and Harry sat on their beds with a sea of sweets and fruit before them. Their few Christmas gifts laid scattered there as well and they paid great attention to them while chatting about everything and nothing. The school, along with some warm- hearted Gryffindors, had been kind enough to supply Neville with some presents. Harry brushed through a new book about Quidditch techniques, as Neville watched with amusement how his toad Trevor tried to make contact with a chocolate frog.
Meanwhile, Harry ranted on about his problems with Cho, the Ravenclaw seeker he dated. He had been doing that for a while and Neville felt safe and calm hearing him, knowing that he wasn't the only one suffering from anguish in his love life. It had been hard enough separating from Draco, after the miracle of hearing his Slytherin obsession speaking soothing words and display tenderness towards him. If Draco had meant to touch his weak spot, he had certainly succeeded. Neville felt hopelessly caught in the last hot memory before they departed, the promise of forbidden pleasure as Draco had left him with a mischievous smirk and those words that had made Neville's cheeks turn dark red.
Enjoy the few days you have left as a virgin, Neville. Things are going to change once I get back. Trust me.
And those sly, blue eyes, reminding him of frost, secrets and irresistable advances...
"Who was that girl anyway, Nevvy?"
Neville jumped and started to blush, as Harry's frank question took him by complete surprise. "Eh...who?" he tried, looking down at Trevor.
Harry grinned at him, seemingly only encouraged by Neville's reaction.
"Come on, we both know! The girl who gave you the hickey from hell."
"Harry, can you keep a secret?"
"Sure."
Neville looked at Harry's cheerful smile, deadly serious.
"I mean it Harry, this is really, really important."
Harry raised his hand as if taking an oath, amused by Neville's desperation.
"I swear on Dumbledore's beard, Neville. Your secret dies with me."
"It's a boy."
Harry's self-assured face fell off him completely and Neville felt a wave of shame well up. His nervous studdering returned for the first time since the fourth year.
"D- do you think it's disgusting?" He looked carefully at Harry, ready to lock eyes with Trevor instead if worse came to worst.
But Harry seemed to collect himself quite quickly, taking a deep breath with his hand held to his heart, as if turning his overreaction into a little joke.
"Wow...okay, I didn't see that one coming!"
Neville tried to smile apologetically, but failed. Harry tried to compensate at once.
"Hey. It's fine with me, honestly. You just threw the biggest news of the year into my face, that's all."
Leaning forward with rekindled interest, Harry continued to press.
"But who is it? You have to tell me, now that you've gone this far!"
Neville shook his head, fixing his eyes on Trevor.
"I really can't do that, Harry."
Before Harry could protest, a black owl tapped at the window with its beak, startling them both. Harry was closest to the window and opened it, letting the freezing bird take shelter from the whirling snow outside. To Harry's surprise, the owl made a blitz attack, biting his hand, before lifting and landing at Neville's bed. Harry was cursing loudly, as Neville took the small scroll bearing his name with shaking fingers. Harry sucked at his wound, while eyening the owl suspiciously. Neville on the other hand, unfolded his letter and read it several times, feeling his heart starting to beat faster.
Neville,
I really hope that you are behaving yourself in my absence. There's a very special Christmas gift designed for you if you do. If Dumbledore cares about his life, he better give you a good enough vacation to begin with. It wouldn't hurt to take some attention from Potter and hand it over to you. Speaking of Potter, I assume you have to spend the Christmas together. Just bear in mind that Potter can be very persuasive and don't let him too close. He has been up to a lot of bad things lately and we wouldn't want you caught up in his web of intrigues. Should he try, my next letters would have to be written on his severed skin. Have a nice Christmas.
D
Neville couldn't decide what to make out of the letter. It started out nice enough (to be Draco) but the last part about Potter seemed a little overreactive. He decided to write a reassuring letter in return, trying with all his might to keep a prying Potter at bay.
Back in the Malfoy castle, the Christmas spirit seemed to live high in everyone except for Draco, whose Christmas spirit had turned into a nightmarish demon.
All the guests had arrived two days ago and a lot of congratulations and welcomes had been raining on him. He had recieved them with perfect manners, seeing his father's proud gaze in the corner of his eye. But inside, he was still cold from the dreadful meeting with the being his parents had commited their lives to. The burning red eyes of the Dark Lord would not leave him alone even in his dreams. And Snape's piercing stare as Draco had recieved acceptance, unreadable and cold.
But none of them were here now. Only the cheerful guests, all of them death eaters save for their youngsters.
As usual, the kitchen elves had outdone themselves when making the traditional dinner for Christmas day. The conversation around the great table was light and cheerful, the competing for prestige unusually relaxed.
Draco kept at his best manners and smiled at his father everytime he gave him that proud glance. The smile was genuine, since Draco imagined his fork stuck in Lucius eye to uphold it. And nobody present could view Malfoy junior as anything but irresistably charming and clever. Soon enough, some amused questions were aimed at the younger dinner guests, sending burning bitterness through Draco.
"So how's the love life?" death eater Bellatrix asked him, clearly swayed by his act.
"Do you have a girlfriend yet?"
The inquiry met more interest, since both his parents and most of the present turned their curious eyes to him. Draco thought his soul could turn no darker.
No, but there's this boy named Neville, you know, the Longbottoms? Ha ha, yes. And his virginity is still intact, but I'll fuck him senseless soon enough. You might have ruined the odds for me and for that, you will all have to pay with your blood. Could you pass me the bread?
But he gave them a secretive smile and fed them some bits.
"There's one I've marked as mine. It's only a matter of time."
The answer seemed to please everyone around the table and Mrs Parkinson pointed out the similarity between father and son, making Lucius look even more proud. Draco made a mental note to remove her tounge some day, in a very painful way.
But the other Slytherin students around the table got questioned as well and only Pansy had a little blush and threw a secret glance at Draco while trying to come up with a good answer.
As dinner came to a finish, the teenagers were sent off on their own, all except Draco. His schoolmates glared at him with respect or envy before leaving the table. There was obviously some serious discussion to attend to, which suited Draco perfectly.
The Dark Lord had risen and there were plans to be made. The subject blew old memories to life and soon the tales of the Dark Lords former reign was openly shared across the table.
Draco listened with half an ear, but looked very interested. Only when Longbottom's name was mentioned, his attention became very sharp.
"Good thing that the Longbottoms are practically extinct." said Mr Crabbe.
"Oh, but there's this boy!" Bellatrix objected. "Draco, what's his name?"
"Neville." Draco's voice was but a low growl.
"Well, he will not make much of a difference." Lucius concluded. "The old Longbottom hag is dead and the parents are locked into a mental institution. I've heard that they hand the sorry little whelp pieces of toffee paper every now and then."
The words released a wave of laughter and Draco laughed with them, though it was the hardest act he'd ever had to play. His fingers were turning cold and the sinking feeling in his stomach had come to stay. Inside his fury was glowing white, but he could not ruin this opportunity now.
Mrs Parkinson smiled at Draco with the sort of underestimating face an adult did to a child.
"But the Malfoys will prevail, no question about that." she beamed.
Draco gave her his most charming smile back, answering with the most polite voice he could gather.
"I doubt that very much. I'm gay."
The silence was deafening.
Draco's words hit the table like a thunder bolt and only the sound of Mrs Goyle dropping her fork was heard.
Draco looked as if he had only mentioned the time and continued to cut his pumpkin pie into small pieces in his well-trained manner, still smiling. His malice had no end as he felt his father's burning gaze, knowing that he felt every whiplash Draco had felt that autumn day. And just as he had counted on, his mother held Lucius under sharp observation.
Bellatrix looked absolutely dumbstruck and tried to save the situation in a really sheepish way.
"Well." She blurted out with a nervous smile. "I guess someone has to be."
Now all eyes turned to her instead, all except Lucius' and Narcissa's. Then his mother threw everything into an acceptable balance, as only she could, not showing any signs of surprise.
"Draco, that is not a proper subject at a dinner table."
Draco smiled politely at her.
"Quite right, mother." Draco lifted the pumpkin pie in an offering gesture towards Bellatrix. "Some more pie?"
Draco made sure to stay close to his mother the rest of the evening. Everytime Lucius looked at him, it was as if he tried to burn Draco to cinders only by staring. But Narcissa knew all too well where the anger was heading and insisted on sending Draco up to his room when the guests had gone to bed, keeping Lucius in the dining hall.
The black owl was waiting for him on the windowsill as he entered. Quickly, as if catching a snitch, he grabbed the message and unfolded it, letting his eyes fly across the parchment. At least one of his parents would be visiting any second and by then the letter had to be burned.
Draco,
Thank you for the letter. I have been thinking a lot about you. Don't worry about me, or about my holiday. Dumbledore has given us a great Christmas and Harry hasn't tried to pull me into anything. On the contrary, we have been talking a lot about personal stuff and I really feel that I can confide in Harry. It feels so good that we can share our secrets together (I haven't mentioned your name, though). I hope that your Christmas has been great and that you've had lots of presents. I miss you.
N
Draco noted that he had stopped breathing as he read. What was the meaning of this? Confiding in Harry? Sharing secrets? What sort of secrets!?
Then Neville had written that he missed Draco. Was it a chilly hint about Draco not being there for him when he wanted it? That Harry had become the substitute Neville needed and maybe decided to keep?
He read it repeatedly, the thoughts in his head running in wild circles. Frustration started to skip hand in hand with searing jealousy.
Right.
So then Harry had to go. He had it coming anyway.
A short knock on the door sent him jumping to the bed to bury the letter under his matress. It had to be burned later, simple as that.
When his mother entered the room, Draco sat on his bed with the sulkiest face he could manage, his arms crossed and stubborness shining like a black halo around him. He wasn't even pretending.
Narcissa placed herself on the bed as well, with the regal air of a queen. But her eyes were on fire, filled with concern, anger and demands, all at once. And she fixed them on Draco.
"Now, what's the meaning of this?"
Instead of answering, Draco pulled up the sleeve on his left arm, revealing the newly branded, ugly black skull on his pale skin.
"It was too soon." he said and made no effort to restrain his bitterness.
"No, love, it wasn't" Narcissa objected. "You fulfill every expectation and the Dark Lord is in great need of his faithful, now that his return to power is growing near."
When Draco clenched his teeth together even more, she continued.
"It is a great honour to be chosen and your father and I are so very proud of you."
"Nobody asked me."
Narcissa arched a beautiful eyebrow in surprise.
"But Draco, you've always wanted this. Ever since you were a child..."
"But I'm not!" Draco snapped. "And it's true what I said at dinner."
Narcissa eyed him reproachfully, every word dripping venom as she spoke.
"Not that voice with me, young man, or you can have this conversation with your father."
Draco softened at the words. His mother knew all too well how to control an argument and after all, he wasn't really angry with her.
"I'm sorry, mother" he murmured, and Narcissa laid her arm over his shoulders.
"What you said at the table was very unnessecary."
"But true."
"Nonetheless, unnessecary."
Draco's face darkened.
"Father is going to kill me."
Narcissa rolled her eyes.
"No he won't, Draco!"
But Draco shot up from the bed, his cold eyes flashing.
"Yes, he will!" he said, removing the cloth from his back as he spoke, only to pull his shirt on again the next second.
Judging from the stone cold face of Narcissa, the sight of the long scars was going to cost Lucius some serious peace in his home. Draco felt a dark satisfaction knowing this. Even though it wasn't the first time Lucius had laid hand on him and Narcissa had been aware of it, she had never approved of it.
"You will have to face your father about your behaviour in front of our friends." she said, almost in a whisper. "But mark my words, I will be there watching him like a hawk."
"I don't want to say another word to him again, ever!"
Narcissa sighed, regaining her authority.
"You are too much like your father!"
"I'm nothing like him!"
His mother had seen enough of that stubborness in her husband to know when to change direction.
"So you claim to be gay." she said, matter-of-factly. "By choosing the time and place to inform us, you didn't just strike at your father, but at me as well."
The thought hadn't come to Draco until now. He actually felt a sting of guilt over it, but the growing anxiousness was worse.
"Are you ashamed of me, then?" he asked, meeting her eyes with uncaracteristic uncertainity.
She looked stunned for a moment before rising from the bed and grasping his hands in a firm grip.
"Look at me" she said, with a serious scowl. "I know better than to question your convictions. But it's a little more earth-shattering than you imagine."
"I know my own family!"
"Then you know that you need to modify your claim."
"Then I would lie."
"You better do as I say if you want to decrease your father's anger into reasonable proportions."
"As if it would help!" Draco spat. "You saw the way he looked at me!"
"Who's your boyfriend, then?"
Draco felt as if the words had gone stuck in his throat. It was embarrasing enough to touch the subject with his mother, without mentioning the unmentionable.
"I don't have one."
"Don't lie to me."
Draco averted his eyes.
"I can't say. Dad is going to kill him."
Narcissa pulled his hands lightly.
"Then let's go down and hear what your father has to say. Remember, that before acting, he will have to go through me first."
His father was in the great hall, seated in a black armchair by the fireplace. The meeting with Lucius was scary enough with Narcissa present, but Draco felt strengthened by having her support and didn't flinch as Lucius rose from his favorite seat with an intimidating stare.
"You're grounded until the term starts." he hissed. "And meanwhile, we'll find out who you really are!"
"It's true, father." Draco's voice was but a whisper.
"I thought we had this discussion about truth." Lucius eyes promised horrifying penalties for the offense, but Narcissa kept an eye on her husband, standing with arms crossed behind Draco.
"I'm sorry, father."
"You are going to get back to school and find yourself a girlfriend. You will bear the name of Malfoy with dignity or not at all!"
"I can't do that, father. I'm seeing someone."
It was evident that Lucius would have gone to attack, there and then, if Narcissa hadn't been in the room.
"And who might that be?" he said, with a murderous, silky voice.
"It's Harry Potter, father and you can't stop me."
Lucius went white and Draco heard his mother's half-quenched gasp. Narcissa stepped between them in a heartbeat.
"Go up to your room at once, Draco" she said in her frostiest voice. "Your father and I have some very serious matters to discuss."
"Yes, mother."
As Draco made it up the stairs, a vindictive smile played across his face. It was a small comfort to have made the smarter move on his father, even though the game was far from over. But anything soothing his worst case scenario about Neville was welcome and Draco could tell from his mother's gaze that his parents wouldn't leave the great hall for many hours to come.